The Genius of a Sleeping House...and Barn

For those of you that have ever been to the Erie County Fair, you'll know the feeling I'm talking about.  It happens at night, each night, just before the fair closes until the next day.  The barns cast a soft glow as the animals settle in for the night with all they need, a safe place to sleep and food.  The smell of the barns, the smell of hay.  This is one of my most favorite things about the fair, night time, the barns, the animals.  Cozy.  When I was a kids heading home at night from the fair in the car was one of my coziest memories.  Once I got home I would always pretend that I was one of the animals in the barns, using blankets as my straw bed.  

This time last year I never would have thought that I would be able to experience this on a nightly basis at home (Sadly I no longer pretend that I'm one of the animals)!  It's pretty great.  

Today Sarah and I were talking about how wonderful it is out here, how beautiful and how lucky we are.  As spring starts to feel more like summer the bugs keep time at night and the leaves make a steady whooshing sound.  The sound of already familiar trees.  The heat starts to hang heavy and night time in the country this time of year is so quiet despite all the life around.  Where as winter is a static quietness and it is quiet enough to hear.  Late spring/summer at night is kinetic.

So yea, one of my favorite times of day around here is night time.  Last night about 10pm I set up a chair to sit in the barn so that Czar and I could spend some quality time together.  The sound of him munching on hay is almost hypnotic.  Midnight and Ember were outside yet.  Morgan was sound asleep in her bed of straw, snoring.  Bad Blake was sleeping upside down in his bed.  In the background were the outside noises.  There is nothing quite like that kind of peace.

I wrote this poem a few years ago and it still rings true. 

#73 familiar trees

it’s the sound of familiar trees

or merely their presence.

it’s the weight of blankets,

not necessarily the warmth.

it’s the womb-like walk,

all for the pleasure of drinking water 

straight from the bathroom faucet.

it’s the bed as it makes note of shifts in position,

and the snore of the fridge.

it’s the genius of a sleeping house.

Now I also know the genius of a sleeping barn!